My trowel works the rich pungent soil, turning, sowing. The sun ever watchful; a higher vantage point now; warmer, heavier as it ascends. I have been here since it was a light casting shadows....Since before it had turned my skin a copper brown like the earth under my knees, as in prayer.
I wait for the rain and the One Who brings it.
In due season, I will reap.
"To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven." ~ Ecclesiastes 3:1